God of Temptation

Chapter 58

~Cole~

As I step into the sterile confines of the hospital room, my heart clenches with a mixture of fear and determination. The air feels heavy, laden with the weight of my worries. My wife, my steadfast companion, stands by my side, her touch grounding me even as my mind swirls in turmoil.

The irony doesn't escape me. I've chased chaos all my life, seeking its wild currents, its unpredictable dance. But this chaos—the kind that gnaws at a parent's soul—is different. It's the chaos of uncertainty, of helplessness. It wraps around my thoughts, constricting them like a python, leaving no room for reason or solace.

While Ava danced like the sun, her laughter echoing through our home, Ariella chose the shadows. Her moon casting its silvery glow upon our tumultuous lives. Despite, the resemblance to my mother—the same eyes, the curve of her jaw—sometimes sends tremors through my soul. My trauma, etched into her features, a haunting echo of the past. Yet, I've never been ungrateful for her presence. She's my redemption, my chance to rewrite the script—to protect, to nurture.

Although Ariella carries the legacy of the monster—the same darkness that still haunts my nightmares. I've seen it—the glint in her eyes when she calculates, when she weighs the cost of survival. She's no innocent lamb; she's a creature forged in the crucible of our bloodline. But even still, I know that I'll sacrifice myself, willingly, if it means ensuring her safety.

My daughter's safety is paramount. The mere thought of the mafia closing in on her sends shivers down my spine. What if they return? What if we're not quick enough next time? The weight of responsibility presses upon me, urging me to take swift action.

I wrap an arm around Silver, her trembling form seeking solace against my side. The hospital air tastes sterile, but our emotions run raw, unfiltered. Her sniffles reverberate through the room—a symphony of fear and hope.

"Shh, butterfly," I murmur, my lips brushing her temple. "Don't cry. You're in pain, and I don't like it when you are in pain."

Silver's tears stream down her cheeks, carving paths of anguish. "Our baby, Cole."

"Ari opened her eyes," Ava's voice trembles, her eyes mirrors of our collective anxiety. And there she is, our Ariella, squinting against the harsh light. Her reflection in the windowpane is pale, ethereal—a moonbeam in the dark night. Her gaze finds us, and she smiles—a fragile crescent, but enough to light up our world.

Silver rushes to her side, cupping Ariella's face in trembling hands. Her kisses rain down—a desperate benediction. I watch, my heart swelling with love and fear. For Ariella carries more than our hopes; she's the embodiment of our past, our shared trauma. The monster that still haunts my nights, the same darkness etched into her features—now lies before us, vulnerable.

"Dad?" Ariella's eyes lock onto mine, questioning and vulnerable.

I put on a smile, my heart a tempest of relief and worry. "Hey, flower," I say, crossing the room to her bedside. "You scared us, you know?"

She pouts, guilt framing her face. "Yeah, I know. I am sorry," she whispers, and I envelope her in a hug, planting a small kiss on her head. My daughter—the quiet moon in our chaotic lives.

"Ari," I begin, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. "There are police outside who have a few questions. Are you comfortable talking to them?"

She looks unfazed, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, I am."

"That's nice," I say, my fingers brushing her hair. "But before that, I'd like to ask you something. Do you have any idea who they are?"

She ponders for a moment, her brow furrowing. "No," she finally says. "I haven't seen their faces. They drugged me—blinded me. But I heard them referring to each other as Levitsky and Marakov."